


Diagnosis

by serikyl



Series: Everything Is Beautiful And Only Some Things Hurt [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Children, Good Parent Grace Hargreeves, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, Mental Health Issues, My First Fanfic, Schizophrenia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:46:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23121955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serikyl/pseuds/serikyl
Summary: AU fic- Klaus receives a diagnosis, Grace is worried for her boy.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Grace Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Grace Hargreeves & Dr. Pogo, Grace Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Grace Hargreeves & Luther Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves & Luther Hargreeves
Series: Everything Is Beautiful And Only Some Things Hurt [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1661989
Comments: 13
Kudos: 113





	Diagnosis

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place in an alternate universe where the kids are biologically Grace's, with six different uninvolved fathers. They are born down the line in number order, each a year apart. Pogo is their bajillionaire grandfather who lets Grace and his grandkids live in his mansion and spend his money.  
> Kid Ages For This Fic:  
> Luther- 10  
> Diego- 9  
> Allison- 8  
> Klaus- 7  
> Five- 6  
> Ben- 5  
> Vanya- 4

Your name is Ben, you are five years old, and you have never been so  _ bored _ in your entire  _ life _ . It’s raining, so you can’t go play in the yard unless somebody comes with you and helps you with your rain jacket. But everybody seems to be too busy to go out to play today. Di is at Patch’s house to watch that scary movie, Luther was building a model plane and asked you to leave him alone so they’re both out. Five is reading one of his big history books which is cool and all but you don’t really feel like reading right now. Besides, Five hates playing in the rain, so dragging him outside wouldn’t be very much fun at all. It’s Allison’s turn to play on grampa’s big computer so she isn’t gonna wanna hang out with you. Vanya is down for her nap, but last time you and Klaus woke her up early from nap time you both got in big trouble. The two of you were sent to your rooms for a whole half hour! You can’t tell time very well yet but it sure felt like a long time.

Thinking of Klaus, where is he? You’re suddenly not sure you’ve seen him today. Why didn’t you think of him sooner? Klaus always has the best games to play, even if they get the two of you in trouble sometimes. Pushing yourself up off of your bedroom floor, you set out to find your big brother. Most likely he’s in his room, so you guess you’ll start there.  _ Knock Knock Knock _ , rapping your knuckles repeatedly against the wood of his door, but there's no answer. Maybe he didn’t hear you? Yeah, that's probably it you reason as you push open the door. He might get a little upset that you entered his room without his permission, but you did knock. Looking around the room, it seems Klaus isn’t here. Though he probably was pretty recently. His bed is unmade, the blankets tossed to the floor, and there are stuffed animals strewn about the room. 

“Klaus?” You still call out, walking to the center. There is no answer, you pick up a stuffed animal near the center of the room. It’s Lamb, his little sheep that he’s had since he was a baby. Briefly, you wonder what exactly it’s doing on the floor, what any of them are doing all over the floor. Unsure, you gently place it right down where you found it and head back to the hallway. 

You poke in and out of the rooms your family generally occupies, not bothering with the empty guest rooms. Nobody usually enters those rooms, Grampa Pogo asked you all to try to keep them neat in case you have guests. Not that the mansion ever really has guests, usually just Patch or Five’s friend Dolores, and they stay with the respective siblings they’re friends with. You get to the playroom at the end of the hallway when a thin hand reaches out of the cracked door and grabs ypur wrist, yanking you inside. Stifling a shout as a second hand clamps over your mouth, you realize it’s Klaus who pulled you inside. His eyes are wide and a little wild. 

“ _ Shhhhh!”  _ He shushes you in a lowered voice, looking around the room conspiratorially. 

“Klaus ...?” you whisper, and he nods curls bouncing wildly. 

“If you’re not quiet, the ghosts’ll come back.” he whispers.

_ Ohhhh _ you think you get it now, a game of pretend! Klaus always comes up with great pretend games for you all to play. Deciding to go along with it, you free your trapped wrist from his hand and press your back up against the wall, mimicking Klaus’ pose. The two of you creep across the wall, heads swiveling back and forth for a few minutes when Klaus suddenly jumps, gasping softly. You whip your head towards him, raising an eyebrow in question. His eyes widen, and he points to an empty space in the room.

“Are the ghosts back?” you ask him quietly.

He flinches, as though something had burned him, then nods, swallowing. A small noise comes from the back of his throat, and he crouches down darting across the room, only to wedge himself beneath the play table. You copy him again, rushing across the playroom. As you start to crawl under the table to follow him he starts breathing funny and shouts  _ “No!” _ and then he  _ pushes _ you. 

“Ow!” you shout, landing on your butt on the playroom rug. It didn’t even hurt that much but Klaus pushed you. You can’t believe that Klaus pushed you. Klaus  _ never  _ pushes you. Not even when you, Di, and him are rough housing. You look at Klaus, feeling a little betrayed, but something is different now. He’s breathing heavy, like he’s been running. His eyes dart around frantically, and he keeps scratching up and down his arms real hard like he’s itchy or something. You sit there for a moment, still stunned that Klaus had actually pushed you. He’s muttering now, scratching fingers moving up to tug at his curls, curving slightly around his ears.

This game of pretend doesn’t feel so fun anymore. This isn’t like normal, Klaus is being weird and you don’t like this game very much at all. So you do what any self-respecting five year old would do, and you run to get your big brother.

  
  


Your name is Luther Hargreeves, you are ten years old and something tells you that you are never going to get to finish your model rocket today. Your five year old brother has burst into your room for the second time today, but this time he’s out of breath and a little teary eyed. The room is filled with the sound of near incoherent blubbery little kid shouting as he tries to explain what has him in such a fuss. You put down the rocket glue and turn to, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey Ben, buddy, take a deep breath and then tell me whats going on.”

He sucks in a huge gulp of air, rubs at his eyes and tries again.

“Klaus, Klaus he. We were playing a game of pretend and he started breathing weird, and then, and then he, he  _ pushed  _ me!” he wails. 

Well, pushing Ben down is definitely out of character for Klaus, he’s never been the type to play rough with your younger siblings. He’d play fight with Di sometimes, but never with Ben. As for the breathing weird? It sounds like your little brother might be having a panic attack, and you should probably intervene. Thankfully, Mom taught you and Di what to do in case Klaus had one while she wasn’t home once they became more frequent.

“Alright, let's go see him buddy. We’ll get this sorted out. Where is he?”

Ben considers this for a moment, you can see the gears turning in his head as he gestures for you to crouch down for him. You oblige and he climbs onto your back. The kid has never liked walking anywhere, and he always begs you for piggyback rides, so when he asks you generally let him have one.

From there, Ben directs you to the playroom where you can hear the distinct sounds of your little brother crying. You lower Ben to the ground before entering the playroom. Klaus has squished himself beneath the play table at the far end of the room, he’s tucked himself up against the wall, knees to his chest, hands pulled up over his ears.

Cautiously, you approach the table and get down to your knees, lowering your head to peek under the table. 

“Hey there Klaus, hey.” you whisper softly to him. He doesn’t look up or even acknowledge your presence. Just keeps looking straight ahead, his eyes are darting around the room frantically. His breathing is erratic. Carefully, you slide yourself under the table with him. You’re tall for your age, and it’s getting a lot harder to fit under this little table.

You take a breath, calm voice, even voice, just like Mom said to do.

“Hey buddy, everything alright?” you try again. This time his head turns in your direction but he still doesn’t really seem to be looking at you. It seems more like Klaus is looking past you, out into the room at something. Being under the table with him seems to make him more upset and he starts crying harder. Shaking his head violently, his stream of incoherent mutters getting louder.

“Nnnoonono No noooooo g’awaaaaaay.” he moans, removing his hands from his ears and bringing them down to his arms. You can’t help but flinch as his nails dig hard into his skin.

“Hey!” you cry out, forgetting to stay calm for a minute. Klaus has been getting panic attacks for a few years now, but he’s never hurt himself like this before. You reach for his hands, to… you’re really not sure but anything would be better than letting him continue to dig into his skin like that. Once you get him to stop scratching, you’ll do what Mom usually does to get him to calm down. Slow, steady voice, rub his back, breathing exercises. 

You’ve barely even brushed his hand when Klaus screams and jerks backwards hard, whacking his head against the table. He hardly seems to notice, or care backing himself out from under the playtable into the nearest corner.

You try to approach him again, but he seems to panic worse whenever you get near. The scratching is drawing small amounts of blood now, and you really don’t want to risk him taking another blow to the head like that. So you back away, heading back to where you left Ben, who has been nervously observing this whole scene from the doorway.

“Ben, I need you to do something really really important for me alright?” You say, taking a firm hold on one of his shoulders.

His eyes widen a bit, and he nods ready to do whatever it is you’re about to ask of him.

“I need you to go downstairs and call Mommy okay? Tell her… Tell her that Klaus isn’t feeling very good and she needs to come home right away alright? Do you remember the number?”

He nods, rattling the number off back to you, then runs downstairs to the phone. You stay here. Klaus may not want you near him, and it hurts you to see him so terrified but you should at least watch over him til Mom gets here so this doesn’t get even worse.

Your name is Grace Hargreeves and you’re driving home from a quick errand at the bank when your phone rings.

“Hello?” you ask, moving the phone to rest between your shoulder and ear.

“Hi mommy.” Your youngest son’s tinny voice rings out through the phone.

“”Hi baby, Mommy’ll be home in a few minutes. What's going on?” You can hear him shifting the cord of the house phone around in his hands.

“Uhhh Lu told me to tell you Klaus isn’t feeling so good. He wants you to come home right away.”

Klaus isn’t feeling well? Now that you think about it, he has been rather quiet today at breakfast, your usually colorful and smiling little boy seemed withdrawn. You haven’t been gone for long but Luther sending Ben calling has you a bit worried.

“Alright Benny, I’ll be there soon. Go tell Luther I said I’ll be right there, okay?”

“Okay Momma. Love you, bye.” 

“Bye baby, love you.”

The phone clicks as your son hangs up the phone, and you step on the gas pedal a little harder. You need to get home and quickly. Your babies need you. 

It only takes about five minutes to get back home, but Ben is at your skirt within seconds of you walking through the front door.

“Momma, momma!” He cries out, grabbing your hand. You take his and let him lead you upstairs to the playroom where your other sons are. Before heading in you lean down to eye-level with your youngest son who has now worked himself into fearful tears.

“You did a good job Benny, everythings gonna be alright now. Can you go play in your room for a little while while Mommy sorts this out?”

“Yeah.” he nods, sniffing back his tears, seemingly mollified by your blind platitudes. You wait a moment as he walks down the hall, the door eventually clicking shut behind him. Alright, now that your little one is occupied, you can go see what it is that had your eldest so worried.

Gently, you push open the door to the playroom and the sight that greets you is not one you expected. Klaus is curled into the corner of the room, smushed up against the large bookcase. His face is bright red, tears streaming down his cheeks as he shouts something near unintelligible, little hands clapped over his ears. Luther is on his hands and knees more towards the middle of the room, trying to talk to Klaus amidst his shouting. You’re slapped by the look of relief that washes over Luther’s face when he sees you. He gets up and rushes over to you.

“Mom. I don’t know what's wrong with him. I thought it was a panic attack but the stuff you taught us to do isn’t working and- and I keep trying to calm him down but everything I do is making it worse and I don’t know what to do and I’m sorry!” He finishes, voice hinging on hysteria as he buries his face into your chest. Hugging him close you try to console your eldest. 

“Sweetie, it’s okay. It’ll be okay, you tried your best and I’m very proud of you for trying to help your little brother. Now can you tell me a bit more about what seems to be going on with him?”

“I don’t know, he seems scared of something and freaked out when I tried to touch him. He keeps trying to hurt himself.”

“Okay. Thank you for watching him til I could get here, you did a good job Lu. Now I need you to go to your room and stay there alright?” He nods, turning on his heel towards the door, then stops, spinning around again.

“Wait Mom! He hit his head earlier. When I tried to put my hand on him he started shouting and smacked the back of his head on the table.” With that, your ten year old leaves you alone with your other son.

Slowly, you approach the corner Klaus has wedged himself into, crouching down so you can see each other at eye level.

“Hey baby. It’s Mommy, what's going on?” You croon at him. He doesn’t seem to notice you at first, fearful, teary eyes flicking about the room. You keep on in the soft, low tone until eventually he looks at you.

“M… Momma?” He asks hoarsely, as though he’s only just noticed your presence. Between the tears and the shouting, his little voice sounds paper thin and utterly wrecked.

“Hey, yes, my little bee. I’m here. I’m here. What's the matter, my love?”

“Momma, the ghosts. They’re everywhere. They won’t stop shouting.”

“What ghosts, baby? There's no ghosts here. Just you and me.”

“They’re so loud.” He sobs, hands still clutching his ears.

“I know baby, I know.” 

You aren’t sure what, exactly, he means by ghosts but you decide to start going along with it for now. Creeping a little closer to the corner, you try to keep him talking.

“It’s alright bee, Momma won’t let the ghosts get you. I’m here, I’m right here.”

Closer and closer still you get to his little corner, backing off if he starts to get upset, getting nearer when he doesn’t.

Carefully, you move your arms around him and scoop him up into your lap. He startles at the sudden movement, but doesn’t start yelling again. Instead he buries his face into your neck, curls brushing against your chin.

The two of you stay like that for a few minutes, humming softly to him. The same tune you’d use to help get him to sleep when he was an infant. He was a fussy little baby, always making a huge racket when it came time to put him down for the night.

“Shhhh… shhhhh.” You hush him, running a hand through his curls. Like Luther had mentioned, there’s a sizable egg on the back of his head. He whimpers a bit when you touch it, so you move your hand down to rub his back. Idly, you examine the deep scratches on his upper arms. They aren’t bleeding anymore, but it’s definitely clear he scratched himself hard enough to draw blood in some places. The cuts won’t need stitches, but a couple of band-aids and a disinfectant certainly won’t hurt at some point.

For now, you slowly move to stand, Klaus still held in your arms. He hasn’t fallen asleep, but is staring dazedly off into the distance. His breathing noisy from all the crying.

You’re still not quite sure what’s going on with your baby, but whatever is happening, it isn’t over yet. As you walk him through the halls of the mansion, you come to the conclusion that you should probably take him to a doctor. Every so often your boy jumps a little, as though something has scared him. One of his hands drifts back up towards the ear that isn’t pressed against your shoulder. The other stays fisted in your shirt. You continue humming to him as you make your way to your father’s study. It takes longer than it should. Sometimes Klaus starts to shout about the ghosts again and you have to take a moment to get him resettled.

“C’mon bee, we’re gonna go see grandpa for a bit, okay?” 

He doesn’t respond, instead he keeps tired eyes fixated on the empty corner of the hallway. You take this as an okay and knock before entering your father’s office.

_ “Come in.”  _ The muted reply comes through the heavy door.

You shift the seven year old in your arms slightly as you push it open. Inside, you see your father, reading glasses perched on his nose, deeply engrossed in some medical manuscript or another. 

“Dad. I need you to watch the kids for awhile, alright?”

“Yes, yes, I- where are you going, dear?” He asks, still not having looked up from his reading in front of him.

“I’m taking Klaus to the hospital, I don’t know when we’ll be back.” 

At this, your father does look up, slight alarm evident on his face when he sees your son cradled against your chest.

“Has something happened? Has the boy fallen ill?”

“Yes… No. I don’t know, but something isn’t right.”

You glance down at Klaus, he doesn’t seem aware that he’s being talked about, looks like he doesn’t even know where he is right now. 

Slowly, your father grabs his cane and makes his way over to where the both of you are standing at the entrance of the room.

Carefully, he moves to briefly examine your fretful boy. Klaus doesn’t acknowledge that any of this is happening, up until the moment your father touches him. This sets Klaus right back into a screaming fit, writhing about as he does his best to twist himself out of your arms. You just narrowly avoid dropping him, as you go back to rocking and shushing him.

“No! No! Mamamama the ghosts they’re gonna get mama ghosts no no nooo!” He shrieks, his nails dig deep into his skin again and you wince.

“Shhh. Shhh. Baby, it’s alright. It’ll be okay. Mama won’t let them get you. It’s okay baby, it’s okay.” Quietly, you repeat these words like a mantra and for a moment you’re not certain who exactly you’re trying to reassure, Klaus or yourself. As he starts to calm a bit, you press a kiss to the top of his curls while carefully moving his hands away from his arms. It takes a few tries, but eventually they climb back up to being curled around his ears. You keep bouncing him, hoping against hope that somehow the rhythm will help him rest a little. 

“Grace- I. What was that about?” Your father inquires, a look of slight bewilderment on his face.

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m taking him to the hospital, I need you to watch the kids.” 

“Yes, yes. Anything you need. Go now, I’ll keep everything around here in order.” For a moment he looks like he wants to reach out a hand to comfort his grandson, but thinks better of it, instead excusing himself to move elsewhere in the house.

Klaus has taken to muttering something you can’t quite make out under his breath, his eyes are no longer fixated on the wall but are now darting about the room.

“Alright bee, we’re gonna go on a little adventure now okay? Okay.” You whisper to him, and start making your way downstairs to get him ready.

As you pass by the couch you grab the old throw blanket hanging across the back of it and wrap Klaus up, bringing him to the couch nearest the coat closet. Thankfully, he doesn’t put up too much of a fuss. Though it’s an entirely different story when it comes to getting his raincoat on. Attempting to maneuver his little arms into the sleeves is like pulling teeth. You’re starting to think you may have had more luck had you actually been doing that as you gently worm his other arm through the sleeve. Getting him to put his boots on is difficult on a good day, so you toss those aside opting instead for an easier pair of sneakers. You move back up to the coat to button it, it’s disheartening hearing him fret so much about putting it on. Klaus loves this coat, it’s pink and he picked it out all by himself. Said he wanted to match Allison’s, who didn’t even get mad at her little brother for wanting to copy her. You slide his mittens onto his little hands, this causes him a significant amount of distress but it’s the best you can do for him for now. It’s June and too warm for mittens, but you won’t be able to stop him from hurting himself and drive at the same time. This will at least keep him from scratching his skin open if he goes back to that.

Carefully, you scoop him back into your arms. He doesn’t seem to notice, too busy being upset about the ordeal of having his coat put on.

“Mmmama.” Your baby whimpers at you as you wrap him back up in the blanket.

“Yeah baby?” 

“Ghosts….” He murmurs, trying his best to point off into the distance despite the shape of the mittens. The only thing in the direction he’s pointing is the front door.

As you approach the door he buries his face into your shoulder.

“You’re okay, you’re okay.” You croon as you take him down the walkway to the car.

It’s while you’re buckling him into his booster seat that your eldest son suddenly comes barrelling down the driveway.

“Mom! Mom, wait!” Luther cries out, there is something tucked in his arms that he’s shielding from the rain.

“Luther! It’s pouring out, go back inside!” You reply, he doesn’t even have his boots on.

“No, you forgot this!” He says, lifting his raincoat aside to reveal Klaus’ stuffed sheep. You got it for him when he was a baby and it’s his favorite, all of the kids have one that’s similar but different animals. Luther climbs up onto the ledge of the van and tucks it loosely into Klaus’ arms. Surprisingly, this doesn’t send Klaus into a full blown panic again, he whimpers slightly but he doesn’t start screaming. 

“He can’t sleep without it.” Luther says, now using his arms to shield his soaked hair from getting more wet. “Thank you Luther, it was very sweet of you to think of that. Now go back inside okay? I’ll be back later.” You say, sliding the van door shut. 

“Okay Mom. Bye! Love you!” He calls out as he dashes back into the house.

“Love you too Lu!” 

Quickly you make your way to the driver’s side door, hop in, and start the car.

You adjust your mirror so it stays trained on Klaus, it’ll help make you feel a bit more at ease if you can see him you think.

With no traffic, it’s maybe a ten minute drive from the mansion to the hospital but this is New York and it’s pouring so the city traffic is absolutely hellish. It takes you nearly an hour to get to the hospital, and fifteen minutes to find parking that won’t get you and Klaus absolutely drenched on the way in. 

You dart up to the front desk, Klaus back to being curled up in your arms. He seems more confused at all the sudden changes in scenery.

“I need to check in my son, I think he’s hallucinating, he-“ You continue rattling off the symptoms he’s shown for the past few hours, anything unusual you can think of over the last couple of days, and before you know it they’ve whisked your boy away leaving you alone to fill out a medical history.

You’d tried to tell them that Klaus’ father isn’t exactly in the picture, the hospital staff tells you to fill it out as best you can. Your side of the family is easy enough, but his father is mostly a mystery in this regard. You’d met Rob at a friend’s house party. It’s been at least six years since you’ve seen him, he wasn’t interested in family life and when you got pregnant with Klaus… well, he tried but the second you’d offered to allow him to terminate his parental rights he was out. With Dad’s fortune it’s not like you really needed the child support. He just wasn’t cut out to be a parent. That being said, there are moments when you wish he had been at least a little. If only so you could get answers regarding your son’s medical mystery.

Sighing, you go over to the hospital’s phone. Hopefully the number he gave you is still good. 

_ “The number you have reached has been disconnected…” _ The tinny voice rings out into your ear. Great. Your eyes land on the hospital phone book, he probably still lives somewhere in New York. How many Robert Wolfe’s could possibly live in this city anyway? Skimming the list alphabetically reveals that you have truly jinxed yourself, because there are forty-four different Robert Wolfe’s currently living in the state of New York. Digging a pen out of your purse, you start dialling.

It takes two hours of calling before you find the correct Robert Wolfe, and even then it’s his stupid answering machine. The one where he pretends he can’t hear the caller before revealing that it is in fact, his answering machine.

“Rob, hi, it’s Grace Hargreeves, I know it’s been a long time and I wouldn’t be calling unless it was urgent but it’s about Klaus. Please call me as soon as possible. You can reach me at (212)437-7112.”

That man always did keep weird hours. Resolutely, you hang up the phone and go back to sit in the terrible plastic chair and wait. Earlier, you had handed in what you could but until Rob gets back to you all you can do is wait for the hospital staff to figure out what is happening to your son.

“Ms.Hargreeves?” Your head shoots up at the sound of your name and you head up to the front desk.

“Is my son okay? May I see him?” You ask, unable to keep the worry you’ve been fighting these last several hours from slipping into your voice. 

“Come with me.” She says, flipping through a chart. Nodding slightly, you follow her. 

“We’ve started him on a round of antipsychotics. But we want to keep him here overnight for observation.” The nurse’s voice is monotone, as if this is all a routine conversation to have. You suppose to her, it might be. After a few minutes of walking that seem to take forever, you finally arrive at Klaus’ room.

He’s sitting in a hospital bed, his upper arms wrapped in bandages and an IV running into the back of his right hand. They’ve swapped his clothes out with a pale blue gown. He whimpers softly when you sit down in the chair next to his bed. The next several hours are a litany of tests, doctors poking and prodding your son who will sometimes look over and tearfully beg you to please scare away the ghosts. 

You told Dad and the kids that you probably wouldn’t be gone too long, but the doctors keep Klaus, and by extension, you a full week. Rob finally calls you back late on day two of Klaus’ hospital stay.

Joey, the kind male nurse who has helped you keep Klaus from absolutely spiralling in his more coherent moments gently shakes you awake. 

“Mmm huh?” You ask, peeling the sheets of Klaus’ bed from your face.

“Grace, honey, your phone is ringing.” He hands you your phone, which is lit up and vibrating. The caller ID showing an unknown number from New York.

“Thank you Joey.” You reply, flipping open the phone and excusing yourself into the hallway.

“Hello?” 

“Grace…” A cool, deep voice greets you on the other end.

“Rob?” You ask breathlessly, slipping out into the hallway. From the small window in the door you can see Joey taking Klaus’ vitals again.

“That is my name.”

_ “Robert.”  _ The frustration seeping into your voice is audible.

“We’ve established that.”

“Can you be serious for one second?”

“Absolutely not.” His tone is flippant.

“....  _ Please.” _

“ _ Fiiiine.  _ For you I can be. Now what did you need, dear?”

“Klaus is in the hospital and I need-“

“The hospital? Is he okay?” He cuts you off. Concern colors his voice, shocking for a man who leapt at the offer to waive his parental rights. No, you aren’t bitter about it. 

“He-“ You watch your son squirm through another blood draw. Joey’s strong but gentle arm holds him in place.

“I don’t know. They’ve been running tests all day, it’s why I called you. I need a medical history from your side of the family.”

“Anything you need Grace. I have a few calls to make, but I’ll call you back, alright?”

“Okay. Thank you Rob.” 

You hang up the phone and hope whatever information he’s getting will be enough to help Klaus.

It’s two and a half days later when your phone rings again, you’re busy drying the eyes of your heavily sedated son after yet another traumatic brain scan. Klaus hates the “Brain Machine” the doctors have been using to check him out. Something about it seems to terrify your boy into a full blown panic attack, and it’s hard to keep him still so the CT scan doesn’t get messed up. It was the second, technically third if you count the one they’d had to start over, that he’s had to go through since your stay began. The doctors have their suspicions, but keep ordering different tests to rule things out before making an official diagnosis.

Gently, you tuck Lamb into Klaus’ arms and lay him back against his pillow. He whimpers, but doesn’t protest, squeezing Lamb tightly against his small chest. You press a light kiss to his forehead, hoping that he’ll be able to actually get some rest today. You finish tucking him in, then grab your phone and head out into the hallway, answering on the fourth ring.

“Rob?” You start.

“Grace. Almost thought you weren’t going to answer…” His smooth voice comments teasingly.

“Sorry about that. Klaus was in for more testing, I had to get him settled before I could pick up.” 

“Ah. Is he….?” Rob hesitates, as though he isn’t sure he’s earned the right to ask.

A mild sense of deja vu sets in as you watch Klaus through the window again. Your usually energetic boy lies on the hospital bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The dark rings beneath his tired eyes have made him resemble more of a raccoon than a little boy. His arms still clutch Lamb tightly to him.

“As okay as he can be right now.” You sigh, finally settling on an answer.

“Hm. Well, I made those calls I mentioned. So if you’re ready I can help out on that whole medical history thing.”

“Yes, one second. Let me grab a pen.”

You get the correct form from one of the nurses, and fish a pen out of your purse.

The conversation takes about an hour or so, with you occasionally walking back into the room to check on Klaus, who has finally managed to drift into a fitful sleep.

Rob lists everything medical that he was able to find out about his immediate family. He starts off the list on the small stuff, allergies, anxiety. A few people in his family have panic disorders, something already evident in your son. Eventually he works up to the bigger stuff, finally ending on something the doctors have been whispering about in hushed tones when they think you can’t hear, not wanting to scare you. 

“We have a rather extensive history of a few different schizophrenic disorders. It skipped me, but the rest of my immediate family has it. That’s it, that’s all I know.” He finishes. You can hear what sounds like a wince in his tone. 

“Thank you Rob, this should help. Thank you.” You repeat again, worry for your son filling the spaces between your words. He updates you on his contact information, in case anything else comes up and the two of you say your good-byes. A part of you suspects it may be for the final time.

Hanging up the phone, you go to sit by your son’s bedside. Klaus almost immediately stirs as you sit in your chair, he’s always been such a light sleeper.

“Mommy?” He asks, green eyes just barely meeting yours.

“Yeah baby?” You ask, carding your fingers through his tangled curls.

“The ghosts are back….”

You hum to him softly, subtly pressing the call button so the nurses can look him over and so you can turn in the missing half of Klaus’ medical history.

By the end of the week, the doctors have finally reached a tentative diagnosis, early onset Childhood Schizophrenia. They want your son back in for more tests over the next several months to fully confirm it, but for now it seems to be the diagnosis they’ve agreed on. Soon you’re being handed an armload of pamphlets on your seven year old’s apparently rare illness. A few of the specialists that were called in hand you referrals to child psychologists and various therapists in the area. The doctors advocate for Klaus attending therapy sessions at least once a week, more if needed. You’re given a colorful piece of paper bearing the name of a prescription you’ve never heard of, and are told you can sign Klaus out.

Klaus, who is feeling better at this point and has been stuck in a hospital room for the better part of a week is ecstatic. He tells you how badly he wants to go home and see his siblings, play with his toys, be in his house. You are relieved that the worst of his hallucinations seem to have backed off for now, though the specialists have told you to keep an eye on him for recurrence while his medication is being adjusted. Klaus still flinches at something you can’t see every so often.

As a surprise for him, your father and the rest of the kids wait downstairs in the parking lot. You don’t tell Klaus that this is happening, your boy is bouncing on his heels to get out of here anyway. When he sees everyone waiting for him you just barely manage to grab him before he runs across the street to them. Almost instantly he’s hugging Di and has Ben hanging off of his arm, talking Luther’s ear off as he tells them all just how gross green jello really is. Di comments how his bandaged up arms make him look like a mummy. Klaus immediately adopts an arms outstretched pose as he slowly chases the other kids around the parking lot on the way to the car. Your father walks in step with you, quietly catching you up with everything that’s happened in the past week with your other children. Diagnosis notwithstanding, you finally feel like everything will be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaaand that concludes my first fic. I would like to take a moment to thank River (Himbohargreeves on tumblr) , as well as all of the irl friends I've hassled for research purposes over the last several months. Without all of you, this fic never would have gotten written and this series never started.  
> This was born out of an idea of "hey what if the kids were biologically Grace's and she were a human lady who gets to live her best life with her seven kids and six baby daddies?" and I figured schizophrenia was the best non-powered way to make Klaus still Klaus.  
> Anyway, feel free to come yell with me on tumblr, I'm Serikyl there. I tried very hard to make this fic as medically accurate as I could, if I got anything wrong please gently correct me. I'll see what I can do to fix it.


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